On the Other Side
by Elyndys
Summary: TezukaTachibana. After injury threatens Tezuka's tennis career, Tachibana tries to convince him to not give up. Very slight hints of shonen ai.


**Title:** On the Other Side  
**Author:** Elyndys  
**Fandom:** Prince of Tennis  
**Pairing:** Tezuka/Tachibana  
**Warnings:** None really.  
**Rating:** G?  
**Disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me.  
**Notes:** This is for my dear crony and crack-pusher, Ponderosa. I've been working on it, slowly, for a while now, and nattering on, so I finally pulled my finger out and got it finished. I don't know how happy I am with it - I hope it's not too rambly, and I hope the ending isn't too sudden, and I'm sorry there's nothing even remotely smutty, lol - in fact, it's barely shonen ai. But I enjoyed writing it, because I do love the Fudoumine. grin Really hope you enjoy it, Pond! And everyone else too, of course. This is my first serious PoT fic, and my first serious fic in any respect for a long time. So please do comment! wibble

On the Other Side

"You're a fool, Tezuka."

I turned to him, surprised at the vehemence in his voice.

Tachibana's knuckles were white, his hands balled into fists. "You're a fool." His voice was softer, but I could hear his bitterness.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off again.

"To throw away such a chance…" He looked me in the face. "I can't understand how you think, Tezuka. Maybe if I did…" He stopped.

I waited, expecting him to continue; but instead, he turned and walked away.

I watched him go, feeling oddly frustrated, as though I'd been the victim of an injustice and I'd not been given a chance to protest.

As I made my way back to my room, though, it occurred to me that maybe the accusation was not so unjust.

At 19, my tennis career was over. After leading the strongest team Seigaku High had ever seen to victory at the Nationals, with the pressure off, I suddenly realised my shoulder was beyond its limit. I hadn't even thought about it – I'd just kept playing. It was a hard-fought victory: even at Singles 1, I'd had to play in more matches than not, and many of them had dragged on to tiebreaks, including the final.

At practice after a couple of days rest, I found I couldn't serve without a stab of agony in my shoulder. I pressed on, assuming it was just stiffness; I took it easier, knowing that the hard work was done: this was just practice, just to keep cruising.

The pain didn't go away. It started to hurt whenever I lifted my arm above shoulder level.

I left it a month before I went to get it checked out. I knew there was no point putting it off; but the cold feeling that crept over me whenever I thought about it was something I'd never experienced before.

When they told me about the operation, I had to fight to keep myself from being physically sick.

This was serious. I'd put so much pressure on my joints at a time when they were still developing, that I needed the operation just to be able to put a shirt on without pain.

As if in a dream, I heard them say that, if the operation was a success, my chances of being able to play competitive tennis again were around five per cent. I found myself thinking detachedly of Inui. It was better, they said, not to even take the chance. They strongly warned against playing serious tennis. What, they reasoned, was the point in pushing myself, if I would most likely do damage that would reduce my chance to zero?

Their warnings made sense to me. It was logical. It sounded so simple: just don't play tennis anymore. After all, it wasn't like I couldn't do anything else. I could go to any university I chose, with my grades. And if I chose one far enough away, no-one would know about the seriousness of my condition.

I was adamant that I didn't want any of the team to know. Of course, they would hear about my operation; but they would assume I would recover with rehabilitation again. I would do nothing to disabuse them of this notion. I didn't want their pity. Just imagining it made me furious. I knew they would only want to help me; but I hated the thought of them pussyfooting around me, apologising for their own abilities. And they would; even if they didn't realise it.

So. I would tell no-one. Not Ooishi, not Fuji, not Echizen.

There are things you can't plan for, though, as I was learning.

On the day I went into hospital, I happened to run into a familiar face. He was being discharged that day, apparently.

Oddly enough, he explained, he was in a similar position to me. Damaged ligaments in the elbow; operation necessary in order to be able to function normally in every day life.

We sat and talked for a while, over coffee: Tachibana sipped at a cup, though I was nil by mouth before my operation.

"It wasn't the pain that got to me… it was them… their concern," he told me. "I would've gone on, pushed myself even further – but they stopped me." He smiled ruefully at me. "An said if she saw me pick up a tennis racquet again, she'd damage more than a few ligaments."

I raised an eyebrow.

He grinned. "Yeah, it didn't make sense to me either. But… I did it. I'm now banned from picking up a racquet."

"What about Fudoumine?"

Tachibana didn't reply for a moment; his expression was filled with regret. "...Well, of course we had to forfeit our second round match in the Nationals."

I nodded. I remembered meeting them at the tournament; when we were still strung out, fired up and still aiming for the final – they were shattered. It sobered us, and, somehow, made us even more determined to win.

"The team…" he smiled wistfully. "Of course they were hit hard. But… I'm replaceable. All the team will be playing next year – with a year's more experience. They said…" he seemed almost embarrassed by his words "they were willing to sacrifice this year. This way, I stand a better chance of being able to play again. For what it's worth." He drained his coffee cup, and we stood to leave. "I hope your operation goes well, Tezuka." He clasped my hand warmly. "I look forward to playing you again soon."

As he left, I felt ashamed. He had told me details that felt intimate, as though he'd shared family secrets; and all I'd given him was a lie.

A few days after my operation, though, I found myself with the opportunity to set the record straight.

I was in the courtyard reading when he found me.

"I thought I'd see how you were doing."

I was pleased to see him – though the truth weighed on my mind. "I'm feeling better. The doctors are optimistic." A little belatedly, I remembered. "How's your own recovery?"

"Likewise. Thank you." He smiled. "If I could be so bold as to ask a favour… I'd like to make a request of you." He hesitated just a moment. "When you've fully recuperated… when we both have. I'd like to play a match with you. A real match. I'd like to play my next serious tennis against a fitting opponent."

Guilt filled me. I didn't deserve this esteem – not now. I had to confess. "Tachibana-san… I'll never play tennis again."

He stared at me, mouth open; shocked.

I pressed on. "I pushed so hard during the Nationals... I didn't realise the damage I was doing." I paused. "Still… we won." Yes – Seigaku won. It was worth it.

"…You could've been a pro."

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to listen.

"You, out of all of us! You're a fool, Tezuka."

I thought you might understand.

_I can't understand the way you think._

His words played on my mind. The guilt lingered after he'd left; I couldn't fully explain it.

When he'd said it like that, it made me think he had a point.

When he'd said it like that, I'd believed him.

"The operation seems to have been a complete success, Tezuka-san." The doctor smiled at me. "We're very pleased with your progress."

I smiled back, more relieved than I might have expected: the niggling doubts could be set aside, at least for a while.

"You'll have made a full recovery in a couple of months, with the rehabilitation you're doing. Because you were in such good physical condition, your recovery should be quick and relatively without complications." She smiled again, and passed me some papers. "Here's your rehabilitation schedule, and a check-up appointment card. You'll be discharged as an in-patient the day after tomorrow."

She shook my hand, and I bowed to her gratefully before heading back to my room to call my parents with the news.

I hadn't bothered to close the door; my corridor was fairly peaceful and I was confident of not being disturbed. Standing over at the window, though, out of the corner of my eye I noticed when a figure appeared at the door.

Turning to face them, I tried not to show my surprise.

"Yes, mother, I'm still here… I have to go now though. I'll see you soon." I closed my phone and gestured my visitor into the room. "…I didn't expect to see you again." I hadn't meant that to sound so serious.

Tachibana took a few steps into my room. "I wanted to apologise for my behaviour the other day. I had no right to speak to you like that."

I paused a moment before replying. "No. You had a point. It was foolish of me to go so far. My team wouldn't have wanted it." I looked him in the eyes. "They don't know about this. If they did… I'm sure they'd say the same."

Suddenly Tachibana was in front of me, more vehement than he had been the last time I'd seen him. "No! I was wrong. I, more than anyone, should know something about fighting against the odds. Back in junior high, with my ankle, they wondered if I'd make it back. I did; so I guess this time, the team didn't want to push our luck. I've had one second chance. I want to hang onto it."

I was shocked once more at his openness. I found it a little difficult to deal with this fresh optimism. "They told me I had a five per cent chance of playing competitively again."

He smiled. "Five per cent doesn't sound like zero to me. Is that Seigaku spirit?"

I felt a small smile on my own face. I thought again of my own team – but now, instead of calling me an idiot, they were urging me on. Like they would, because that was Seigaku.

It was a comforting thought. But... just too romantic. I shook my head. "I'm sure the team would support me. But... like you said. There's only so much luck you can have. We won the Nationals. I don't expect any more fairy-tale endings. I can't ignore logic."

"You can't be happy with that, Tezuka. You _can't_." It was almost an entreaty; I didn't understand it, but I could see that he was trying to reach deep inside of me, to something that I'd divorced myself from when I'd made the decision to follow my doctors' advice.

"I..." I found I didn't want to disillusion him; I didn't want to push aside his faith as if it meant nothing to me. But...

I realised I was... afraid. "I don't want to take the risk." I so seldom felt fear that there was nothing I could do but hide it behind reason.

He looked at me silently. After a few moments, he bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

I felt suddenly vulnerable. He saw through me.

He still didn't lift his gaze to face me again. "It was wrong of me to put pressure on you." He looked at me now, though. "I just... If I had your talent, I'd take that risk." He smiled, a little shamefaced. "I know what it's like, to be in an impossible position. You think you just have to live with the frustration, because if you even try to work against it, it can only make things worse. Right?"

I wasn't stupid; I saw what he was saying. But I let him talk, admiring his strength of feeling.

"In that position, a long time ago, I took a risk. And I don't regret it."

Of course. "You did that for your team. Just like I did." And ended up here.

"It was worth it." He continued, in all seriousness. "Fudoumine will win the Nationals next year." Softer, though, he added "Without me."

He was probably right, I had to admit: next year, with a highly experienced, close-knit team, Fudoumine stood a good chance of going all the way. Finally, after all of Tachibana's effort.

Always throwing away his own chances, to further the team.

It crossed my mind that that was only what I had done! I didn't even notice my own needs, so focussed was I on the goal the team had worked so hard for. "My only thought... was that Seigaku should win." But... I'd wanted to be a part of that winning team. "My only thought was that I would lead Seigaku to victory." Was that it? I'd worked for my share in Seigaku's glory! And besides... how could they win next year? Without me?

I closed my eyes. In hospital, I'd made up my mind to study Classics. The notion of hubris haunted me. I couldn't admit defeat! And that was why I must accept my fate.

"Tezuka-san?"

I opened my eyes, and he was sitting beside me. "If you want to do something for your team, do this. Let them say, He was our captain! They'll be proud."

I didn't reply, and after a few minutes, he got up again to leave.

"Tachibana-san." I stood up quickly, reaching out and catching him by the wrist. "Don't settle for being proud of your team."

He looked at me, puzzled.

"Don't tell yourself you haven't got what it takes." I took a deep breath, letting myself take the risk, in the moment. "If I'm going to take my five per cent chance, then you should as well." So used to deference to the team. The team come first. "You can do it."

A second's hesitation, processing – and then a smile. Understanding, after all. "Thank you."

I smiled back. "I accept your offer. I'll play my next serious tennis match against you – if you reserve me that right in return."

He shifted his arm where I was still holding it, moved to grasp my hand with both of his. "I'll be waiting."

No, don't wait. "We'll get there together."

His smile widened, and I felt gratitude flood through me. No regrets. "Of course."

END


End file.
